To Be Free A Memoir
by euphonic
Summary: At an impressionable age in his life, Sark discovers just how cruel life can be... This story details the reason why Sark became the agent that he is today.


**To Be Free (A Memoir)**

**Rating**: PG-13

**Disclaimer**: Characters belong to JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions and ABC. Everything else is mine.

"Julian!"

I heard my mother's voice float across the house, through the half-open window and surround me. I stood there, silently, just outside the door, in a tiny front garden. It was well taken care of, my mother's small garden. Rose bushes of every shade were scattered across the entrance to the cottage, small tiles creating an intricate pathway.

Sometimes I wondered what I was doing here. This place's only redeeming feature is the hills upon hills of cascading, bright green grass. My favourite spot was a short walk away from the cottage, an old oak tree. I would often spend my time there, contemplating with Shakespeare and travelling with Homer.

Dreaming came easily, that much I knew. Closing my eyes while my back rested against the trusted oak tree, I could feel myself soar high above those cascading hills. Sometimes all I wanted to do was get lost in my dreams, in my fantasies, where things made sense, were people were decent, where they didn't leave.

Anything but this.

I placed my hand firmly on the doorknob. For a split second I thought it would be best if I closed my eyes and blocked out the world around me; maybe I could pretend I didn't hear the commotion inside and race towards that oak tree. But I couldn't let him down, I just couldn't.

I turned the knob quietly and stepped inside my house, looking around. It was the same as every other day, but then why would it be any different? The wallpaper was slowly decaying, curling at the edges until it fell softly towards the floor. The furniture was still sparse, a small lounge room, a small dining table, three seats and a small television set.

I walked slowly into the kitchen, watching my mother as she laboured over two pots steaming and bubbling with a sweet, pleasant aroma.

"Julian," she said, turning around and smiling.

I often wondered how she knew I was there. As a child I'd spent years coming up behind her slowly, quietly, making sure not to make a sound, but she always knew, she could always sense me.

She walked across the tiny kitchen and kissed me softly, smudging my pale face with the remnants of the food left behind from her frequent taste testings.

I smiled at her and walked over to the pots, grabbing a wooden spoon, I gently dipped it into the liquid and tasted it. "Mmm," I told her.

"Go get your brother," she told me. "Dinner's almost ready." She walked towards the cabinet next to the fridge, taking three plates, which she placed on the dining table. "Oh, I almost forgot," she said softly as she walked back towards me. "Kate called."

"Thanks," I told her as I walked into the bedroom that I shared with my brother. I could hear him playing soldiers in our room, and for a second I hoped not to disturb him. I opened the door slowly, watching in amazement as he turned around. Recognising me, his tiny, seven-year-old face twisted into a look of sheer happiness.

"Julian!" He squealed.

I grinned, amazed at how much he loved me. He always displayed his emotions. I told him to be careful, that people would take advantage of him, but he'd always laugh it off and remind me that he was the younger one, so he was allowed to make mistakes.

"Jude," I said joyfully, wrapping my arms around him as he hugged me tight. "How was school? Did you finish your homework?"

"Yup!" Jude displayed his exercise book proudly. He took step backward and fell on his bed. "But Mrs Roman asked us to spend the next week drawing up family trees, she said that we can only understand someone else's history if we can start to understand our own."

"Oh," I said, a sick feeling rising from within me. That woman, if Jude had told me earlier… I hated people like that, inconsiderate, picking on a child who couldn't possibly understand.

"Julian?" Jude looked up at me with sad blue eyes.

"Yes?" I went and sat next to him on the bed, patting his back gently.

"Can you help me?"

"Sure, buddy." I smiled down at him, wanting desperately to take the pain away. "We'll out in Aunt Catherine and Celine… even that dog that they found." I opened his book and began scribbling in it.

"Mrs Roman said that we had to do our immediate families. What does that mean, immediate? Where's dad?"

Slowly, I took an eraser from his pencil case and rubbed out my notes. I took a deep breath and looked at my younger brother. "You know he's dead."

"Julian! Jude! Dinner!" I heard my mother yell from across the house.

Jude got up reluctantly.

"Hey," I told him as he made his way across the bedroom. "Don't talk about him in front of her, okay? You know she gets upset."

Jude nodded, but that sad look didn't disappear from his face.

I wanted so much to make him forget what little memories he had of that man, that man that ran away from my mother all those years ago, who forced me to grow up fast and take care of my brother and my mother. I was more of a man then he would ever be. I made a promise to myself that day, the day he left, the day that my whole changed, that I would never leave my family, that I would always honour them, that there would be no turning back.

Looking at Jude as he stood there I realised how hurt and confused he must be. He hardly had the chance to know our father before that maniac ran away. Jude never had a happy life. At least I had nine years of it. Every year since then has been a year of hurt and suffering, of knowing what was and what could have been. I was sixteen now, but it still hurt, it still felt like it had happened yesterday.

I know people argue about knowledge, telling us that it's powerful, that without it we are nothing, but personally, I would have given almost anything to have that memory erased, to not remember how good things were, to not remember what was. To just accept things they way they are now. At least then I'd have no regret in thinking of what I was missing out on.

I raced across the room, picking up my younger brother. Jude wrapped his arms around me and squealed again, knowing what I was going to do him.

This was our little game. Something we've done since he was four, and he never could get enough of it. I spun him around and around the time room, watching as he extended his arms out, screaming in absolute delight. I held his waist tightly as I continued spinning, around and around, watching the world blur. This is what it's about, the laughter, the happiness, that all consuming, carefree feeling; that much, I knew.

---

"I knew I could find you here."

I looked up from the novel I was reading. There she was. She looked so beautiful, her face blocking the sun, smiling down at me, the wind playing with her hair. Blowing a kiss my way, she sat down next to me, arching her back against the oak tree.

I smiled at her and kissed her shoulder, watching as she leaned her head against me. "My mom finished making my prom dress," Kate told me as she took the book from my hands and started leafing through it.

"You know, I was thinking, can you sneak out tomorrow night, watch the stars with me?" I grinned at her, knowing my blue eyes were sparkling from the sunlight.

She smiled widely, her brown hair flying against the wind. She had dark, almond-shaped brown eyes, which were wide open and gazing. "What will our parents say when they catch us?"

"Science project."

Kate chuckled. "You've got everything figured out, haven't you?" She looked up from the shoulder, towards the oak tree. Her hand shot upwards and she started tracing our names and the love heart.

We'd carved it out two years ago, when we knew we were falling in love. It was funny, you take two broken people filled hope and love, more than they can share, and things just click. I knew I would never love someone else besides Kate.

Kate looked at me again, playing with her red scarf. I grinned at her and pulled at the edges of the scarf, drawing her towards me. Smiling, she kissed my nose. 

She was my everything, the way she argued with me, the way she smiled, the way her voice broke when she cried, the way her muscles tensed up when I kissed her. She wasn't like other girls. She brought out the best part of me, and she knew it.

"I was thinking, what if we go to the city? It'd be nice to get out of this sleepy town." She held my hand close in hers, looking at me with her large, innocent eyes.

"Where to?"

"There's a carnival," she replied. "In Glasgow. We'll take Jude. I think there's a sword exhibition there. With swashbuckling pirates!"

"Okay," I replied, taking her hand in mine. Raising it softly, I looked into her eyes, feeling myself float as she looked deep into mine. I kissed her hands gently and, leaning over, I planted a trail of tender kisses across her cheeks, stopping at her nose.

She grinned at me and brushed her lips over mine. She was so innocent, so tender. When I was with her I felt like I was pure, like I was doing good in the world by being with her.

Pulling away from the kiss, she smiled happily at me. "Oh," she said, in her soft, delicate voice. "What did that woman want with you? Mrs…"

"Irina," I told her, feeling a stab of pain twist its way across my heart. Oh, Kate didn't have to remind me of that woman, coming to our school, tearing me away from our lesson. She talked to me for almost an hour in the teacher's lounge, asking me about my father, bringing up all those memories. "She's some kind of archivist. Looks like my dad did something good after all."

"Julian, I…" I could sense that Katie didn't know she was going to hurt me by her question. Her voice broke and she looked away. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to me. "I'm sorry, I-I didn't know." She looked down, thinking for a moment. "Hey, let's race!" She told me.

She bolted up from the grass, grabbing my hand. Pulling me back, I stood up. She grinned and ran off.

Shaking my head, I took off, running after her, chasing the greatest girl I'd ever known across the dense, soft grass of England.

---

"If you really want to know about my life," I told Irina softly, "I'll be more than happy to tell you. But if you want to know why that man left, then I'm afraid I can be of no help to you."

She looked up from her pad of paper. The audacity, asking me back, interrupting yet another lesson. Didn't she have enough information from the last time she interrupted my life?

I watched as she stopped fiddling with her pen and looked into my eyes. "I want to know everything, in your own words," she told me. The man behind her, she had introduced him as Alexander, a colleague, coughed quietly. He just stood there, watching over us. Occasionally he would look outside the window, but there wasn't much you could make out from behind the blinds. The room was dark; the carpet was old and the paint was starting to peel at the edges. Somehow, the whole room was closing in on us; and I started to feel trapped.

Momentarily, I let my eyes wander across her frame. She was pretty, she had long dark hair and brown eyes which looked innocent. But there was something there, something beneath her skin, that just wasn't right. I couldn't place my finger on it. Was she upset, was she sad? It could be a burning anger. Not to mention that accent of hers. She did a good job of covering it, I could barely hear it, but there it was, lying there, like a small tiger, ready to prey, to rip you open at any moment.

This woman scared me. I knew I couldn't trust her.

"I told you most of it last time." I looked at her cautiously. I looked down again at my hands, fiddling with my fingers, wondering what Kate was doing right now. "I don't know who this Rambaldi person is."

"Julian," she told me softly. "Do you ever think that Lazarey just seems out of place here?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, not looking up. She spread her hand out before me, yawning. Moving her long, lean arm toward me, she gently raised my head by a quick flick of her hand, so that I would be able to look directly into her eyes.

"Not exactly a traditional English name, is it?"

"No, I guess not," I replied. "My father, he was Russian, I think. I don't care."

She smiled at me, gazing deep into my eyes. This was too much; I met her eyes for a split second, and that second alone was too much to bear. I turned to look at a broom, resting against an old cupboard, in the corner of the room.

Anything but those beast-like eyes. Oh, they looked gentle, they did, but there was just something about them, hidden beneath the surface. If you made contact with them for too long, they would tease you. Taunt you.

They hypnotised you, made you say and do things that you would never say or do otherwise. They would stare into the very depths of all that made you human and pure, and if you continued to stare, if you were brave enough, if you dared, they would snatch it away from you.

"Why? I want to hear it in your own words."

The conversation continued like this for almost an hour. She'd ask me a direct question, I'd pretend I didn't know, and respond vaguely. It was a slow, lazy dance we practiced. After what seemed like hours, she sat upright in her chair and smiled at me, that charming smile of hers. But she couldn't disguise it, not from me. I'd spent nine years watching my father smile that very same way. No matter how hard they tried, they could never hide that evil, cunning smile with charm.

"What would you say," she told me delicately, prancing around the question, "if I told you I'd like for you to come work for me."

"I do work. I help some people around their house, repairs…" My voice broke off as I heard Irina laugh.

"No, my dear. Real work." She leaned over her chair and grabbed her purse from her bag. Taking a large wad of cash, she shoved it towards me. "With real money. Incentives."

It was more money that I'd ever seen in my life. When my father left, he took everything with him – the money, the house we lived in, our friends and our neighbours. He took away our hope and faith in life, and with that we became desolate, empty shells, walking around, not caring, not feeling, not knowing. But the irony was, we did feel, we felt very strongly. We were sad, that was unmistakable. We were miserable; and it was at that point that my mother gathered Jude and I into our beat-up car and moved us far away.

I remember watching the town pass us by, and driving out of it, I felt as if it was disappearing out of my life. But no matter how hard I tried, it was still there, the sadness, lingering underneath the surface. Jude and my mother were happier here, but they didn't bear the burden that was placed upon me.

I had to grow up quickly, so that I could work, so that I could make money and help my mother. I wasn't just Jude's brother, I was his confidante. With Kate, I was someone else completely. She was the only person I could be with who would take away all remnants of sadness until all that remained was the very essence of me.

Looking back at the cash that Irina held in her hand, I knew how much it would help my family. I leaned over, about to grab it.

"Uh uh," she said, pulling her hand back quickly. She's a predator, I knew it. She's a predator posing as a house pet.

I sat back in my chair, feeling the heat rise from within me. My whole face was blushing from embarrassment. I almost begged that woman for money, I couldn't believe how low I'd fallen. I was broken; there was no mistaking it.

"_Un jour, tu mendier travailler avec moi_," Irina spoke softly.

I looked across the room, at the man standing behind her. Why was she speaking to me in French? It occurred to me then that she had something important that she wanted to tell me, something that couldn't be said in normal words. [I]_One day, you will beg to work with me_.[/I]

I took a deep breath. Irina looked at me silently, relentlessly. I was afraid to blink. Her eyes moved up and down my frame, and I imagined her eyes were shooting lasers, measuring my origins, my curiosity. Had she stared any longer, I may have burned to death from the heat of her eyes.

Finally she spoke. "I look forward to your company, Julian. You have so much potential."

---

"I like this place," Irina told me. She sat next to me, watching the birds soar high above us. Over the past month she'd told me about her life. She still scared me, at times, but I understood why she was the way she was. Life had scarred her, just the same way it had scarred all of us.

She was like a sister I'd never had, someone who was willing to look after me. I wanted to know more about her, each and every day.

"Sark, do you like birds?"

That was her nickname for me. She told me she once had a cat named Sark who had dazzling blue eyes; eyes that reminded her of my own. So that was my name. Mr Sark. No more, no less. There was something mysterious about that name, something brave. It left one wanting more, but it also left them speechless. Mr Sark didn't beg people, they begged him. He didn't have a past, only a memory. When she first gave me that name, she had told me that there was something haunting me, something that left you wanting to know more. I could almost say the same thing about Irina.

"I've always wanted to fly."

She laughed softly. "Where would you go?"

"I'd find my father. Make him pay."

She turned then, watching me. She stared at me then, observing me closely, her eyes looking intensely into mine. "I will help you," she spoke softly, every word of hers was calculated. "I will help you if you let me."

She handed me a small piece of paper with a number on it. I nodded, taking it only to shove deep into my pocket.

She sounded like she had something big planned, and it occurred to me then that her interest in my father was not fleeting. That man had something on her. I started to feel scared, I think she sensed this because tiny goose bumps erupted all over my skin. I stood up and smiled at her. "I'll think about it," I told her. I walked down halfway down the hill, constantly telling myself not to turn around and look at her.

But I did. There she was, looking back at me. But this time her stare wasn't hard, it wasn't cruel. She looked peaceful.

I didn't think much of it at first. I stumbled slowly down the hill, not thinking about how the rest of my life would change. It didn't occur to me until years later, over a bottle of some sort of alcohol or another with Cole, that Irina had known all along.

---

"Good afternoon Mrs Tanner," I told Kate's mother pleasantly. If there was ever a time I needed to talk to Kate, to feel comforted, it was now.

"Good afternoon, Julian," Kate's mother replied, moving away from the doorway and motioning for me to enter. "She's in her room."

"Thanks," I told her mother as I walked across the hallway, turned left, and knocked on Kate's door. "Hey butterfly," I said softly.

Nothing.

I placed my ear on the door, waiting to hear her smile and reply, but I couldn't hear anything. There was just silence, stony, cold, stillness.

"Kate?" My voice sounded worried; I was getting scared. She should have known that I would be visiting her now. "Kate?" I said urgently as I opened her door. I walked into the room, looking around. She wasn't there.

On her desk was a small notebook, she had just finished her homework. Her textbooks were all over the place, her clothes splayed across the room. On the far end of the room, beside a small wardrobe, a window was open, the curtains flying across the large space, creating symbols as they rocked against the wind.

I went over to close the window. Looking out of it, I saw a man drag a small body up across the hill. Curious, I watched the scene unfold before me. Looking closely, I noticed the long, red scarf she loved so much.

"Kate!" I screamed as I lunged through the window, falling. "Ahhh," I cried, feeling my leg bang harshly against the windowsill. I looked down momentarily and saw a pool of blood seep through my pants. I didn't care what happened to me, none of it mattered, Kate was in trouble. Scrambling up, I ran towards the hill.

I could feel the blood rush through my veins as my heart pounded. My feet hit the lush grass, quickly, quietly, as I made my way towards Kate. Adrenaline was rushing through me now, that was all I had. Adrenaline and hope. I ran up the hill, trying to scream out her name, but I couldn't, it took so much energy, and instead my voice sounded raspy. I couldn't let anyone hurt her, that was the only thought that slashed its way across my mind.

There she was, squirming underneath the man's grasp. I looked across the hill, and I saw another man carry Jude. My brother.

"No!" I ran down the hill, feeling my whole body ache, but it was too late. As I ran, gasoline was sprinkled across Kate's body. I heard Jude scream for mercy as that man took out a match, lit it, and threw it inconsequentially towards them.

When I got there, the whole area was on fire. That man looked at me for a split second, and I could swear he smiled at me. But it was too much for me. I wanted to run after him, to chase him down, to make him pay, but I just couldn't.

I have the face of that man imprinted in my thoughts. I knew I'd never forget him. That wrinkled face, those thin lips, the greying hair. It would take me almost five years until I had his identity, until I knew it was Arvin Sloane, and it would take me many more years until I infiltrated his circle.

I remember falling to the ground, watching as Kate and Jude's body melted from the flames. Tears were pouring down my face, I couldn't hold it in any longer. I thought about Jude, trying to draw his family tree, just trying to figure out who he was in this cold, dark world. He didn't deserve it, he was only seven, he had so much to live for, so much love to give.

I knew I couldn't feel the same about people after that. Kate was the one person in my life that added to it, that gave it meaning. Without her, without my brother, my life would mean nothing. Everything I had done was for them, and to have them snatched me away from me was more than I could stand.

I must have spent hours crying, because when I finally found the energy to get up from the ground the flames had died down. My only thought was that the world, as I knew it, was a lie.

I slowly made my way to the oak tree, tracing carvings I had made for Kate so many years ago. Next to it was a picture of a cat that Jude had carved that summer. Turning back towards the hill, away from the tree, my eyes dark red, I decided that I would never again be Julian.

Julian Lazarey had died in that fire with Kate and Jude. No, all that remained was a small part of my former life. I was Mr Sark, that's all I could ever be now. The only memory that remained of my previous life was that old oak tree, its branches still swinging with the wind, its soft, fragrant smell still surrounding the hill, its carvings always taunting me, every time my thoughts would dare to remember that day. My mother was the only person that remained from my former life; the one person I would always cherish, the one person that I would never betray.

Slowly, carefully, I made my way towards my house, knowing that I would call Irina. I knew that I would become involved in intelligence work, and I knew I'd become heartless, much more than I was that day.

I made a vow to myself, as I made my way through the hills that I had once loved, thinking of all the things that mattered to me, that I would have my revenge, no matter how long it took, no matter how impossible it seemed.

I would not allow myself to care about people, I knew that much. They were means to an end. Maybe once I achieved what I so desperately long for, I will become whole again. I don't know, but the one thing I did know was that my old life, as I knew it, was gone.

I had become a hard, empty shell, just another person, walking around, trying to make sense of everything, except it didn't matter. For me, the only thing that truly mattered was getting those people back; and that in itself was impossible.

Walking away from the hill that day, I knew that I would never feel love again, but somehow, it didn't matter. I was freed, that day. After all, it's only after you've lost everything that you're free to do anything.


End file.
